


Expectations

by CC99trialanderrorgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (in a sexy way), Begging, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Fighting As Foreplay, Frottage, Grinding, Loss of Control, M/M, Making Out, Possessive Tony Stark, Slightly Virginity Kink, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Swears, Stony - Freeform, Takes place a few months after the first Avengers movie, Tony Stark Has A Heart, slight Identity Porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC99trialanderrorgirl/pseuds/CC99trialanderrorgirl
Summary: Heavy is the head that wields the shield, or, well, something like that. Tony's a little distracted, okay? Because they may fight constantly, but Tony Stark seems to be the only person who can see Steve Rogers underneath the Captain America persona, and that is...significant.Or, Steve and Tony take their antagonistic relationship to its logical end: desperate kissing and frottage on a helicarrier.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Expectations

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” Tony Stark is talking the talk here, and listen, he _believes_ the words. He’s _great_. But God, he _hates_ this man. Everything dear old dad always said…but it doesn’t matter. Not now. All that matters to _this_ Steve is the next fight, and, evidentially, fucking up Tony’s entire life with his principles and his…pecs.

Well fuck that.

Tony has never willingly given ground in his entire life. Not even when the other party was the Ten Rings. He isn’t going to give in to this man wearing a uniform that would look more at home on a seven-year-old wearing it for Halloween.

“Everything special about you came out of a bottle,” he says, and well, fuck. That was maybe a little harsh, but again, Tony did not come here to _lose_. So he raises a hand and pushes.

“Put on the suit,” Steve hisses back, fire in his eyes.

And Tony notices, okay? He fucking _notices_. But it disappears in an instant, so Tony ignores it and just shoves Steve again – hard.

A moment later, all hell breaks loose, but he’s sure as hell gonna get the last word in, never mind the chaos.

“We are not done here!” Tony spits at the exact same time as Steve barks, “We are _not_ through.” He holds one accusatory finger up in Tony’s face. Tony wants to bite it off. Instead, he goes to grab his suit. Steve stomps off in the other direction to do the same.

* * *

Later, when it’s all said and done, they’re back on the helicarrier. And God, Tony hates these things. But, it’s been a few months now. He’s getting more used to it. To this new world. Cleanup is underway. The Avengers are officially formed up. And yes, okay, shwarma happened. But it doesn’t change anything. Not between him and Steve at least. The rest of the team is, well, pretty okay. But pretty boy Apple Pie over there, not so much. Tony hates him. With an almost alarming passion. And Steve it seems, for all his aw-shucks charm that he gives to other people, just can’t quite keep up the act with Tony.

They fight. A lot.

Tony is sort of proud that he brings out the worst in Captain America. Or maybe he just brings out the truth in him: Steve Rogers, laid bare for all to see. Not a myth, just a man. A really stubborn asshole with great pecs and a bangin’ body and a fucking fantastic face. Yeah, Tony may be an asshole sometimes but he’s not in the habit of lying to himself, thanks. That’s a fool’s game and he knows it.

He also probably knows Steve Rogers better than anyone in this damn century.

He knows how the vein near his temple throbs when he’s screaming angry.

He knows how the left side of his body blushes harder than the right when he’s mad.

He knows how every serum-engineered muscle tightens when he’s seconds away from absolutely fucking losing it.

He also knows that even if Steve Rogers comes close to breaking on an alarmingly regular basis, Cap swoops in to save the day every time and puts him right back in control.

Sometimes Tony wonders why. But really, he already knows: Because Captain America is important. Captain America is a symbol. Steve Rogers is irrelevant. And that bothers Tony for some reason. Pisses him off a lot, actually. Especially in those moments when Steve reveals that he seems to know this, too.

Still, Tony keeps needling him. He wants to see the blood and viscera under the armor. The ugly truth of who Steve is, not who the world wants Cap to be. He wants to see the beating hard underneath the façade, messy and imperfect and so much the better for it. After all, he’s Tony Stark. He always, always wants to see what’s underneath. So he gives Steve nicknames and gets in his face and makes cracks about his suit, his morals, and his virginity status.

And Steve, for his part, gives as good as he gets.

And _that_ …well, that might actually be Tony’s favorite part of this whole damn circus.

Captain America is a bit of a boor. But Steve Rogers, that guy doesn’t give up easily. Tony kind of likes him.

So yeah, it goes on for months. So much so that it becomes commonplace. Oh dear, Steve and Tony, at each other’s throats again. Someone call Barton, someone get Natasha. On a few memorable occasions, it’s been SHIELD agents separating them. Steve was forced to go docile to keep up appearances, while Tony had no reason not to continue on spitting mad. It was _great_. But the last time they argued, that glint in Steve’s eyes was new. He was almost certain that particular fire hadn’t been there before. Or, maybe, Tony has just been trying extra hard not to notice it since the Avengers became a thing. Either way, it grabs his attention and doesn’t let go.

He kind of can’t get the burning shade of blue out of his mind.

* * *

It all comes to a head after the debrief.

Tony makes a crack about the suit again, because what else is he going to do? Mocking things he hates – or loves – is in his nature. Worst of all are the things that _fascinate_ him. Howard taught him that – every single time that he _tried_ to teach him just the opposite. _Sorry, Dad,_ Tony thinks. _But this is me_. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…and menace to one Steven Grant Rogers.

Somehow, it’s that last one that seems the most important.

So yeah, he makes the crack, because it’s what he does when he’s off balance and it’s also just who he is. He pushes and prods and tears things apart to get at the guts of them, to understand how they work and make them better. And if he can’t make them better? If something is already, inexplicably perfect? Well, then, he still wants a shot at its insides, just to admire the beauty. He’s Iron Man now, but he’ll always be Tony Stark first. A kid with a brain that’s a little too fast for the world around him, trying to make sense of things because people just don’t understand.

So he _expects_ Steve to spit some vitriol back at him. That’s the game, isn’t it?

What he doesn’t expect is to get grabbed in the center of his (actually very expensive and vintage, easy on the goods please!) AC/DC shirt, shoved through one of those weird porthole doors that the Navy seems to love so much and SHIELD appropriated for their helicarriers for some inexplicable reason, and _slammed_ up against the nearest wall.

His back hits the steel alloy with a loud bang. He looks around for a moment, processing his surroundings. They’re quite alone, and for one wild moment, he thinks of calling for JARVIS. But then he sees Steve’s face. Steve doesn’t look angry, he looks…

“Fuck,” Steve swears, and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like the blushing virgin Tony and Fury and everyone else has him pegged as, not at all. He kisses like he means it, like he’s desperate for it, like he’s dying for more.

Tony kind of loves that he’s got inside information over the rest of them.

Then Steve shifts his grip until he’s pressing Tony fully up against the wall, both hands wrapped around Tony’s biceps, and Tony – _almost_ – forgets to think at all. Steve’s grip is just this side of too much. Kind of like…kind of like Steve is losing control, not quite compensating for his strength the way he should. Oh _God_. That is…sort of stupidly hot. On instinct, Tony reaches out and grabs a fistful of that All-American hair, right at Steve’s nape where it’s gotten just a little too long, and _pulls_.

“Oh God, oh Tony, oh fuck,” Steve groans, and presses up against him tighter. “Oh, oh, oh _fuck_.”

Oh shit, is all Tony can really think. Captain America swearing is, like, really doing it for him. He presses one knee forward, and his thigh bumps up against Steve’s cock. Tony literally shudders in response. “This is so hot,” he mouths against the skin of Steve’s neck, and his lips smear spit all over the heated skin there. Steve’s grip gets tighter, switches from Tony’s biceps to his hips. His hands are too tight and the waistband of Tony’s jeans isn’t going to protect it at all. Steve is definitely leaving bruises, losing control, and it’s Tony who is making him lose it, and oh holy shit, holy _shit_.

“Tony,” Steve begs, and oh God, Tony isn’t going to survive this, he just isn’t, the arc reactor wasn’t built to withstand this kind of sexual torture, oh _God_. If Steve says what Tony things he’s about to say, he will literally ascend to another plane of existence, just leave this mortal coil behind entirely. Maybe Thor can offer him some directions, maybe… maybe he’s going into hysterics. He doesn’t care. He just grabs Steve’s (fantastic, criminally attractive) ass and urges him on. “Yeah, Steve, come on, do it, come on…”

Steve makes a strangled sound that knocks about fifty years off his personality. Suddenly he’s just any other twenty seven year old, fumbling his way through a new sexual experience, hurtling toward a precipice and utterly desperate for the coming fall. It humanizes him in a way that nothing else has – not the books, not the dossier that Tony read cover to cover but told everyone he didn’t read at all, and not even the admittedly very tasteful Smithsonian exhibit. Somehow, along the way, everyone has missed that Captain America never really existed at all. It’s just Steve Rogers, a man who hurts and bleeds and wants, just like everyone. For the first time, Tony wonders if Steve has done this before at all.

Well, if he hasn’t, he chose the right person, because Tony is something of a sex savant. A sexpert, if you will. A sexual artisan with decades of experience and he is very, very dedicated to his craft. He will give Steve the best orgasm of his life. He will –

Tony pulls harder on Steve’s hair, grabs at his ass with that much more force, and sucks on Steve’s neck that much filthier.

“Oh God, Tony,” Steve chokes, “I’m gonna—”

“ _Captain Rogers, please report to the main deck_ ,” comes a disembodied voice on the intercom.

And Steve deflates like a pricked balloon.

His hands drop away from Tony, his posture goes from open and turned on to goddamned parade rest in two seconds flat, and his breathing…well, actually, he can’t quite seem to get that under control. Tony is for some reason inordinately glad.

Steve also can’t quite seem to control the raging erection currently threatening to tear the seams of his pretty little spandex suit. But it’s the expression on his face that gets to Tony. Steve looks…wrecked. And not in the good way.

“I-” Tony has never actually seen Steve at a loss for words. Not with him at least. Their constant bickering over the last few months has become something of a routine that he relies on, an intellectual treat to look forward to, even. He hates that Steve looks cowed right now.

All at once, it crashes down on him.

“Hey, you know it’s like, okay, these days, right? Like, being into men is not, you know, a crime anymore. Score one for the twenty-first century, am I right?”

He tries to play it light, both because that’s what he would want in this situation and because Steve had looked like he needs a little more levity in his life, oh, one hundred and twenty percent of the times Tony has seen him. He basically always looks like a man without a lot of occasion to laugh – even in the photos from before the ice, sometimes – and Tony, well, Tony is good at making people laugh. So he tries.

Steve deflates even more.

“I know. Thanks, though.”

And oh God, that watery smile, so sincere and so pained, it almost kills Tony. It’s like looking at himself thirty years ago, after telling his father and Jarvis the truth about some things. Their acceptance and assistance didn’t quite cover the shame of not being…well, what people expected him to be. And Tony is willing to bet that Captain America lives with about a thousand expectations heaped on him. And that’s just before breakfast.

“ _Captain Rogers, please report to the main deck_ ,” the voice repeats.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and starts counting back from 1500 in multiples of 7. Tony has honestly never been more turned on in his _life_ , seriously, like what the fuck, he knew Steve was smart, but, like, okay, tabling that for another time. Shut up, boner. Not now.

Unsure what else to do, Tony just waits. They’re still pressed up together. Tony shifts back a little and moves around him. Not stepping away, just giving Steve some space. With Tony no longer plastered to his chest, Steve immediately collapses backwards against the metal wall and starts heaving in huge gulps of air. Okay, so, not calming down then. Sort of the opposite.

“Should I…” Tony starts to ask, but Steve cuts him off.

“I can’t make it go away.” He sounds pained, panicked, and most of all, angry at himself.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony starts again, and once again Steve cuts him off.

“I’m trying,” he practically snaps. Tony doesn’t generally suffer people snapping in his presence, let alone _at_ him, but he lets it slide this time, because he can see Steve’s face. And Steve is pinching the bridge of his nose so hard it’s turning white. His brow looks almost painfully furrowed, his eyes are squeezed shut, and the vein in his temple is straining against his skin. His neck and shoulders tense, his hands are balled into fists at his sides, and overall he’s just tense as hell. Point of fact, Steve looks like a man trying to hold back the inevitable.

“I _can’t_ ,” Steve says again, and this time, his voice breaks. Tony’s trying really hard not to get turned on by the obvious loss of control right now, because Steve is clearly upset. But Jesus Christ, Steve Rogers losing it is fucking sexy, okay? Sue him. But they’re, what, friends now? Contrary to popular belief, Tony _can_ do friendship. Just because he doesn’t do it _often_ , doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to be there for someone. He does and has and will again here and now, for Steve. He looks up at the man’s face just as he opens his eyes. Steve’s baby blues are almost black with lust and looking right at Tony.

“ _I’m so turned on right now_ ,” Steve whispers the words like it’s a confession. And oh fuck, it’s a punch to Tony’s gut, it’s a knockout, game over, total TKO.

Tony flicks his gaze down.

“Dad never said…” he trails off, almost like he’s talking to himself, but more accusatory, more curious. He can’t stop staring at Steve’s erection, mesmerized and knocked off course by the intensity of Steve’s confession.

“Howard didn’t know.” Steve spits.

Oh. 1940s. Terrible homophobia. Stars and stripes. Mantle of all that’s righteous and good. Right. But maybe…

“Barnes?” Tony guesses. He doesn’t even know why he’s still talking, where this desperate need to know is coming from. Except. Except that…he hopes…just maybe…Could _he_...?

“Wrong again,” Steve says, rueful and yet still so strained. “We were just friends.” The flat tone and the flash of sadness in his eyes says it all. Barnes was his best friend, lost in battle. But _just_ that…not a lover. For a lover, Steve’s lips wouldn’t be pressed into that grim line, his eyes wouldn’t be so flat. It’s impossible to hide passion. Tony knows.

But maybe Steve doesn’t realize that yet. His hands are still clenched into fists at his sides. The tendons in his neck are still sticking out.

“It’s okay,” Tony whispers.

Steve’s eyes snap to his. The hope of understanding in them is almost painful. But Tony once withstood torture. He can definitely stand here and shoulder _this_ , for Steve.

“ _Captain Rogers, please report to the main deck immediately_.” It’s the third summons, so the tone has turned distinctly warning and accusatory. Tony can see the effect it has on Steve, who is once again desperately trying to gather himself up to go and do his duty.

“Hey, wait,” Tony says.

Steve pauses, mid self-flagellation.

“Fuck that,” Tony says, and grins wide and dangerous.

He pushes himself up against Steve, grabs him by the back of the neck, and just fucking mashes their faces together. And like, Steve just _responds_. Instantaneously. Like he’s been waiting for permission his whole life. Tony is sure Steve must make an excellent solider with all that control and the appearance of obedience. But Tony _knows_ that Steve makes an excellent lover, with all that desperation and the total loss of control Tony just knows he’s capable of. He’s gonna get him there. He is.

“Take what you need,” he gasps against Steve’s swollen lips. He grabs Steve’s ass and starts rutting them together violently. It works even better this time with Steve propped up against the wall. Steve throws his head back and keens.

“Oh shit,” he moans, and Tony thrills inside.

He slams them together harder, feels the whole of his body slide up against Steve’s. Feels it where their dicks are rubbing together through their clothes.

“Tony, fuck, _please_ ,” Steve begs, voice breaking with the intensity his arousal.

“Concentrate on it,” Tony pulls away from Steve’s mouth to whisper in his ear. “Focus on the way my cock feels up against yours, the pull of the fabric, the friction. The feel of my hands on your ass, my –”

The announcer voice comes on again, now openly terse and pissed off: “ _Captain Rogers, your presence is required on the main deck. Please report immediately_.”

Steve starts to move, but Tony just slams him back against the wall. And like, holy shit, Steve must be so far gone to even let Tony do that. He’s losing control, he’s—

‘Tony, Tony, Tony,” Steve is chanting now. “I’m gonna. I’m gonna come. Oh fuck, Tony, I—“

“Do it,” he hisses, and Steve does.

It’s…spectacular. Tony can barely even describe it. It eclipses his own climax exponentially. Sure, he’s distantly aware of his cock spurting against Captain America’s spandex-covered thigh, but he’s really just aware of one thing and one thing only: Steve.

Glorious, uncontrolled, resplendent Steve.

He’s panting, chest heaving in great big gulps of air. He’s shaking, which is almost comical on someone of his stature, except that it’s really, really not. More like hot as hell. His face is splotchy and ugly and so very _real_. Tony even thinks he sees a few tears in the corners of those gorgeous blue eyes. He glances down and the stain on Steve’s uniform is huge. The serum? Or just Steve? he wonders. But, like, another time, brain, okay? Right now he’s busy using all of his considerable intelligence to catalog the _hottest sight_ he has ever seen is his whole goddamn life: Steve Rogers, absolutely wrecked.

“Fuck, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Tony blurts out, and Steve just blushes. A lot more than is warranted, actually. Tony’s eyes narrow, but not unkindly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but was that maybe the first time you’ve ever done this? With, like, another person, I mean.” He holds Steve’s gaze the entire time just to make sure that the guy knows he’s not making fun of him. Because he’s really, really not. In fact, he’s hoping and praying and fucking begging any God that will listen that it’s the truth.

“Maybe…” Steve stumbles over the syllables, still looking destroyed. He can’t hold Tony’s eye contact while he does it.

Tony’s mind goes blank except for one exultant phrase repeating over and over again: _I deflowered Captain America_! Tony doesn’t do a little dance, but it’s a close thing. Then the wave of possessiveness hits him: he just had sex with Steve Rogers. Who is beautiful, sexy, and mean in the best way. Who is principled and controlled and just lost his mind over Tony. Oh God. He was this man’s _first_. Nobody has ever seen the cooling blush currently fading off Steve’s cheeks. No one has ever grabbed his ass, rutted up against him, tasted his tongue. Or…other things. Images flash before Tony’s eyes. Dirty, filthy fantasies. He can’t look away.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn’t notice Steve starting to wilt. But he does notice, just in time.

“I-“ Steve starts, and Jesus Christ, it sounds like the guy is about to say sorry. Well, fuck _that_.

“Shut up, you were fucking beautiful,” Tony says, too fast and too sincere.

Steve lights the fuck up.

“Thanks, Tony.” He smiles. It’s a sappy smile. It’d be disgusting on anyone but Steve, Tony is sure.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Tony says. He’s equally sure that the smile on his face is just as huge and unflattering, which of course means that it’s great. Fantastic even. But Steve is once again avoiding his gaze. Can’t have that. What–? _Oh_. Tony figures it out as Steve glances down at the frankly huge stain on his spandex and starts to look embarrassed again. “I-”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Tony quips, and holds up a wrist. “Need a ride back?”

“Oh,” Steve says, breathless, and Tony will have to remember that fucked-out, grateful expression until the next time he can put it on Steve’s face. He strokes Steve’s cheek with his nose as the gauntlet unfurls. Then he blasts a hole right in the side of the goddamn mess of shoddy SHIELD engineering that is this hellicarrier and whisks them both away to the parapet on Avengers Tower.

* * *

“Captain Rogers, why did you miss a meeting on the helicarrier and disembark without permission?” Fury’s voice sounds angry, accusing, and suspicious as it comes through JARVIS’s speaker system. Steve freezes where he is, dripping wet and pink from the bath and yet another orgasm at Tony’s hands.

He looks up at Tony, questioning and nervous. Tony shakes his head once. “Don’t worry about it,” he mouths. Then he tips his head back from where he’s still lounging in the bath and says, “JARVIS, please tell the Director that I required the good Captain’s immediate assistance on a matter of great urgency and that while there were a few small explosions, we were able to reach a mutually satisfying end.”

“As you wish, Sir,” comes JARVIS’s disembodied voice.

Steve is still just staring at him.

Tony spreads his hands. “What can I say? I’m a bad influence.”

“I promise you, I can give you a run for your money,” Steve says low and dirty. Then he drops the towel. Tony glances down, does a double take, and then _leers_.

“Yeah you can,” he drawls as Steve crashes back into the bath with him.


End file.
